Returnable
by Softbrush
Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed. He should, by all means be gone and done with, yet because of the curse a mix-up occurred on 'the lists'. He’s now a Returnable, trying to find the answer to a question. First he has to discover what that question is...(R
1. Liska

Hey, Softbrush here! I was watching POTC in the theatre for about the 38th time (no sarcasm there.!) when I realized something about our dear antagonist Barbossa. He was wearing a wedding ring-on his wedding-ring finger. Now, unless Geoffrey Rush forgot to take his off and absolutely nobody (nobody includes the make- up folk, the costume designers, the producer, director, stage hands, prop people, other actors, editors, f-x people, his personal assistant and everybody else) realized this, I think his character either had a fetish for wearing wedding rings yet wasn't married, or he was/had indeed in/been in a relationship. (Don't pester me with comments such as "It could have just been a ring." I am far more superiorly creative then that!) Then the same night I was watching O! Heavenly Dog! on the family network. It was Benji's third movie-you know, the famous dog actor. A detective had been murdered yet become a 'returnable' to figure out who killed him. However, as his human self was dead, he was 'returned' as a dog. He met up with another friend of his who had been murdered as well, and had become a 'returnable' as a cat. It was a very amusing and entertaining video, and an idea struck me. The curse kind of rendered our favourite blood-lusty pirates alive yet dead at the same time. More ideas ensued. I eventually got a headache and went to bed, but not before writing a short summary of the story I had brewing down. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
Returnable  
A  
Pirates of the Caribbean  
Tale  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that.  
  
Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.  
  
Other: The first chapters take place before the movie. The rest takes place after the movie, the Golden Age of Piracy. An OC is in the introduction, yet isn't referred to so much afterwards until the end-she has a bit of importance to the story.  
  
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Liska  
  
I don't believe anybody else would know of the on-goings in my life save for me. Perhaps, though, a few others would recognize a situation and think that it reminded them of me. However it goes, I'm quite sure nobody living would ever have known about her.  
'Her' being Liska. She was really quite beautiful and I suppose I did miss her from time to time. Yet when one is a captain of a rather blood thirsty pirate crew, one simply can't take their ship, go waltzing up and say hi to someone, who in fact you hadn't seen in a damn long while. The crew would start thinking for once, heaven forbid.  
It was an accident, really, what happened. Ol' Jack Sparrow was still captain of The Black Pearl, so you can imagine this was at least ten years ago (in reality it was about eleven and a half). My older captain had sailed us right into a crowded ocean-side town, where business must have been good, not to mention it was terribly crowded.  
Normally enough, the town panicked upon realization that a pirate ship had just anchored in their bay, yet it took them the ship's flag being hoisted up and a few blasts of cannon fire to make them see. They were really quite stupid.  
We rowed in and docked on a beach beside the docks. Then we did what we always did-Maim, slaughter, rape, pillage, plunder and in other words, pirate fun. The town's losses were our spoils, yet we saved the grandest for last.  
It was a stone mansion, very much like Governor Weatherby Swann's mansion, I suppose, except it had more colour in its gardens. It took two others and myself to get sick of the village people, and become thirsty for a bit of aristocratic plunder.  
Myself and two pirates who were rarely ever seen apart, Pintel and Ragetti, broke down the front doors and immediately started shooting the servants, maids and whomever worked there. The screams were somewhat deafening but we paid no attention. We were used to it, after all. After we removed those who provided trouble, we searched for loot-anything we could get our claws on. Jewellery, money, and clothing is what we took.  
A few minutes passed by after we had finished pocketing the obvious treasures and moved onto searching for even more valuables. A cannon fire from the Pearl shook us a bit, breaking into a wall and nearly ending our lives it came so close. A few more cannon balls thudded into the grounds of the house, and Pintel made his mind up we should go. He left and Ragetti took a final blue jacket with white trimmings off the wall, nodded to me and scampered after his shipmate.  
Standing in front of a wooden unit the stairs were to my back as the desk was pushed up against the wall. I had my hand wrapped around an interesting necklace, absently stringing it through my fingers as I inspected it, when the shout caught me.  
"Unhand that! You filthy inbred dog! Leave this place!"  
I looked up and aimed my pistol at the voice's owner, yet my fingers ceased up and I found I couldn't pull the damned trigger. There she was, Liska, standing at the top of the stairs. Her golden brown hair was done up in a sloppy bun due to her hast to get decent. Her white nightgown went to her knees, and a light blue housecoat was thrown over her shoulders. Her face was pale white, maybe from fright or anger, I never did find out. She was aiming a gun wobbly at me, not even holding it right.  
"Y'eh ain't goin' t'er do anything with that pistol, lass. Even then, threatening a pirate with a firearm ain't the best idea ye'v ever had, I imagine," I said loud enough for her to hear, yet quite coolly at the same time. I flashed her a half a grin before pocketing the necklace and advancing towards the stairs.  
The pistol went off and I heard a disoriented gasp come from her, being rather distracted as the bullet from her gun ripped a new hole somewhere in the brim of my plumed hat. Damn it, I did. I liked the hat, the large feather on it making it look so fancy.  
With a growl I lunged up the stairs after her, rather peeved she had fired at me. She gave a frustrated growl of her own and didn't budge as I neared her. I arrived at the top of the stairs, and reached my semi-gloved hand out towards her. It was to late, however, and I failed to see the butt of the gun. Ironically, I felt it connect with the right side of my skull, just where my turquoise head-rag wound around my forehead and behind my ears, ending at a large knot just at the back of my head, the excess cloth draping down to my shoulder blades.  
I also felt myself tumble back down the stairs, head over heels in a continuous backwards summersault, loosing my hat somewhere along the way, the pistol still in my hand going off and lodging a bullet-hole in a portrait that hung on the wall. I landed at the bottom and felt the air gush out of my lungs. I lay there in a twisted formation, stunned, until I regained my breath. I straightened myself out and glared up at her, my head hurting considerably where the gun had hit me.  
"Serves you right!" she said to me, shaking my hat, my hat, at me. I gave a muffled sound, and then hissed through my teeth. I got up quickly and aimed my gun at her again, cocking it and then finding the strength to pull the trigger.  
All the gun did was click. I embarrassedly realized I had no bullets left to shoot her with. She started laughing at me and I withdrew my cutlass from my belt. She stopped laughing and backed up few paces as I advanced, slightly slowly as the blade had given me a scratch right on the back of the knee, causing me grief when I walked.  
I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could: yet she gave flight and I had to plough after her. She rushed into a room and slammed the door right in my face, and I heard a click that betrayed she had locked the door.  
"Open the door up, lassie. I'm goin' t'er get y'eh sooner or later, and I prefer sooner."  
She threw a nasty insult at me and I wondered weather she actually knew any pirates, as her words were most definitely not words a well brought up lady would use. I found myself trying to gather information about her. She was only a whelp, perhaps twenty. She also couldn't hold a gun yet used very foul language. She was slightly bold.  
"Parley!" she suddenly screamed from the other side of the door. I felt my body tense and if I had been moving I would have frozen, I'm sure.  
"What did you say?" I demanded quietly, only to be answered with the same word she had said before. Typical a girl who lived in a port would know pirate defences.  
I thought fast. Jack Sparrow would most have definitely let her go, the damn brat. He had a sense of chivalry, oddly enough. I, however, wanted her to suffer for shooting at me, causing me to fall down the stairs, and she still had my hat. I believe I at least wanted that back.  
"Y'er talking to the captain, lassie," I lied, and heard her give a quiet cry from the room.  
"Go away." she answered me, and I heard her voice wobble drastically. I thought to myself, Gents, she has a soft spot! Just like any other lass. Crying seemed to get them through a lot.  
"I'm afraid I'm powerless to concur to y'er insistence, lass," I answered back, my face curving to accommodate a vicious grin.  
"Stop calling me 'lass', (she decided to use her colourful insulting skills here), and call me by my real name!"  
"And what, pray tell, might that be, lass?" I teased her, wriggling the doorknob a few times. No avail.  
"Miss Liska Epiphany Catharsis!" she screamed at me, and I pulled my head back. She had been standing right on the other side of the door, and her voice had indeed been loud. "Now introduce yourself so I know who'll be hung tomorrow!"  
I bit my bottom lip, furrowing my brow (which felt horribly awkward without my hat), thinking. What harm would it do to tell her my name and ship? After all, I would certainly have a ship of my own one-day and truly be a captain. Soon enough, indeed.  
"Captain Barbossa of The Robber misses Catharsis."  
Silence ensued my introduction, yet I heard her breathing in the room. My own breath had stopped, and I held it, waiting for a reaction. When I got one, it wasn't what I had expected.  
"No, you're not the captain of the ship attacking my home. I've heard stories of it. A man named Samuel Carp captains it."  
I felt anger swell up in my chest. How could that idiot be heard of when he simply showed up one day in Tortuga with a mind to get a crew and start his pirating career? He hadn't done anything spectacular after that! Well, he had, but I wasn't prepared to admit they were spectacular. In fact, I was entertaining myself highly by imagining the finest way to slaughter the fool.  
A clicking sound echoed beneath the doorknob and the door creaked open a few inches. I shoved it open and didn't come face to face with Liska. Instead, she had crossed over the room and was sitting on a window bench. She still had the pistol in her arms. I absently placed mine back into my belt and raised my sword, yet she aimed the pistol at me again.  
"You have no shots left, and this bullet would reach you long before your sword fell," she spat out quietly. I realized she was right.  
"So why are you allowing me in, pray tell?" I asked her, looking around. The walls were a dark maroon colour and there was a wooden desk on a corner near her. A closet sat across the room from a bed with a fireplace on the wall beside it and a dressing screen with black pictures of animals drawn on it was near the door and I. It was a bedroom.  
"Because, you can't hurt me, and I want to know what happened to Samuel Carp if you're the captain of his ship," she answered calmly, and put my hat in her lap. I had a sudden urge to leap at her and snatch my hat back. Stupid lass I thought she was.  
"Samuel's been dead f'er over a month. He.was shot and killed instantly," I once again lied, my voice wavering slightly as I did so. She seemed to see the waver as sadness that my captain was dead.  
"Oh.I'm sorry," she muttered quietly. She looked down onto the mahogany wooden floor and was silent for a brief moment. Her bun fell out of place and her wavy hair spilled down over her shoulders, the ends just making it to her top most rib. I felt my jaw slacken a bit and a tight gnawing sensation run through my chest. She really was beautiful, I thought.  
"Drink?" she inquired and suddenly got up, setting my hat and her gun down on the window seat. She made her way to the desk, pulled out a compartment and proceeded to take out a false bottom. She brought out a crystal bottle of what looked to be like whiskey.  
"What's a well brought up girl like yerself doin' with whiskey?" I asked, and she flashed me a small smile.  
"I never drink it, but it helps the fire roar." She pointed to the fireplace a little to the side of the wooden headboard of her four-pillar bed. I smirked and absently flung my gaze across to the fireplace and back to her. She had approached me cautiously and was holding the bottle out. I stared at it hard for a moment.  
"Ye've never tasted whiskey." I absently said as my disbelieving gaze flew at her eyes. She tilted her head slightly to the side and shook her head. I took the bottle carefully from her and unscrewed the round cap that closed the air out. I took a swig and was about to cap it back up when a few cannon blasts from the Pearl landed near or hit the house, shaking its very foundations.  
We both stumbled and she ended up falling. I lunged forward with the bottle still clasped in my un-gloved hand and caught her before she sank very far. Her hands clutched fists of my coat to stay aloft and after the general rumbles stopped, she gathered herself up and stood.  
She gave me a peculiar look and I merely grinned at her, knowing she had realized she was still very much in my arms. She wrinkled her nose and tore herself away, and I couldn't help but think how feisty she was. Beautiful, bold, and resistant she was.  
"Mister Barbossa," she snapped, and actually grabbed the bottle back out of my hand before backing away, "Kindly keep your hands to yourself."  
I gave a quiet chuckle to which she must of taken offence to, and she ripped the cap off and flung it full out at my head. She missed, but I felt the breeze on my ear and even heard the soft whistle the projectile gave out before it shattered against the slightly closed door, nudging it to close another inch.  
"Can I have my hat back, now?" I raised an eyebrow at her and cocked my head slightly to the left. Not entirely sure why I had asked her instead of simply pushing her out of my way, I awaited an answer. She huffed once, whirled around and strutted over to the window. She scooped my hat up and flung it at me. Luckily, hats didn't fling as well as heavy crystal, and I caught in my outstretched hand.  
"Thank you, miss Catharsis," I teased her some more. "Yet now you have nothing to cap your bottle with, such a shame." I sneered at her and she glared at me. The gnawing feeling in my chest gave a flutter and I thought about what her smile would actually look like. Her true smile.  
"Then I shall have to drink it." She gave me a silky smirk and put the bottle to her lips, tilting it back. She gave a harsh cough after swallowing the booze and I laughed some more, yet louder this time. She growled and drank some more yet before long had to slam the bottle down on the windowsill.  
"You are most definitely not welcome!" she spat out and I strode up to her. I grabbed the bottle off the sill and chugged back a hefty helping, setting it back down and smirking at her.  
"I feel welcomed, especially by being offered whiskey-and being able to drink it," I replied. From that point on, it evolved into a contest. She consistently tried to prove she could drink an alcoholic beverage, while I'd just take a gulp here and there and return the bottle so she could work at it.  
Straight whiskey, right from the bottle, being swallowed by a girl who'd never drank it before, and being drank by a pirate who enjoyed the competition. Naturally, we got drunk. As you can imagine, chaos ensued. We made our way over to her bed to support ourselves on the beams instead of simply stopping ourselves from consuming any more drink. A decision I rather regretted some years later.  
Another cannon ball blasted through a wall in the house what seemed like only ten minutes later to a drunken mind, and as the shock and surprise set in on her and myself, she tripped over her own feet and ended up falling into my arms for the second time that night. I over-balanced and fell back, laughing rather giddily. I felt my back sink into the soft covers and mattress of the bed, yet a weight on top of me suddenly rendered me confused. And I suddenly couldn't see.  
The blindness struck me as odd and it took me at least two minutes in the pursuing silence to realize that my hat had slipped down and was now resting on my forehead. The brim had set over my eyes, which explained the darkness. My smile slowly dissipated as I realized what was on top of me.  
She was going to demand I leave if she though what I thought she was thinking. I'd have to, as she was still under the protection of parley-we had not come to any agreement and she had not called the parley off. And there was another part of the Pirate's Code I remembered then (something about not being allowed to harm or trauma a woman if she offered you a drink or something. To this day I can't recall it.). I don't know why that was my only thought at that moment but it wouldn't leave my head, and I didn't want to go.  
My sight came back slowly as my hat was pushed back and set carefully on the surface above my immobile head. Our eyes met, my blue ones starring into her hazel optics. I got lost in her stare for a moment, yet she brought me back-she tasted my lips. 


	2. Propose And Plot

Returnable

A

Pirates of the Caribbean 

Tale

            Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that.

            Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.

            Other: Hey, Softbrush here! The proceeding chapter takes place before the movie, once again. Liska is there, and a famous ship and captain sinks. Ten cookies if you can guess what famous Pirate Captain ran his ship aground, drowned almost every man of his crew including himself. Hint-his career lasted nine months.

            Err, sexual intercourse alert. Don't worry, all you young'uns, though. I didn't give you a visual image let alone details. Oh, and Jack's at the end of the chapter, for all you fan girls. I also figured out how to format the bloody thing! Wahoo!

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Propose And Plot

               I hadn't realized that the port, in which Liska lived in, Port Vulpes, was so close to Tortuga. It wasn't more then a two days sail, which provided me with much worry. It was close and often pillaged and re-stocked, pillaged and so forth, as the British Royal Navy found no reason to guard it well enough. She was in constant danger. I of course, being a pirate, was in danger as well, but it was different.  However, I found good reason for the closeness of Port Vulpes. Many ships went there and came back, and that meant I could temporarily join their crew or stow-away. 

               At first I only stowed away, hiding and running about the ship, sometimes being glanced and spoken about by the more superstitious pirates as a ghost or spirit. Yet as my luck applauded me, my captain, Samuel Carp, did indeed get shot and die: Over a drink, in a bar, at that. I was a free pirate for a while, working on a few ships that would go back and forth, staying sometimes at Vulpes, other times leaving with the ships.

               Just to see her. I was happy to just see her, and she didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed my company as I did hers. We would talk long into the night and early into the mornings, and sometimes I would stay for another day or until my ship left (not all were pirate ships, you see. Some were neutral merchant ships granted protection by most Tortuga pirates as they delivered supplies to the island). 

               The gnawing feeling in my chest never left me when I was around her, and I constantly though of the possibility of having emotional attachments to her. I never brought the subject up though, thinking perhaps she would feel uncomfortable around me then. Yet we both came clean, the same night. She said she enjoyed my company and I blurted out I loved her, and the she admitted she loved me to. It was a very…odd set of moments.

               We weren't always as fortunate as our first meeting. We had many brushes and close calls when it came to secrecy. Many a times we were nearly caught, suspected and she was interrogated, and other times I had to eliminate a few servants or sailors that discovered us. Liska became worried that I wouldn't return some day as these brushes became more frequent, the servants of the house and her parents becoming more suspicious every time she 'went to bed early' and emerged to breakfast the next morning with tired yet happy eyes. She was constantly questioned and once her room was searched with me hiding under her bed. 

               I didn't want her to worry-I felt it _my_ job to worry about her safety. I recall one day six months since we first met she broke down and sobbed her words into my chest that she was scared I wouldn't come back next time a ship came into port and I was supposed to be on it. 

               I thought for a few days while at sea while on a pirate ship called _The Diver_ what could I do to make her sure I wouldn't leave her. I was a pirate, what could I possibly do to console somebody let alone a lover? She had even used that point against me.

               "You're a pirate, how can I be sure you're telling me the truth? For all I know the next time you have to slaughter somebody it'll be the final straw for you!"

               I didn't mind killing for her, not at all. I didn't mind anyways, so it was a shy yet important matter to me, the death of a stranger. As I pondered over this conflict, the captain ran the ship aground.

               Water flooded the damn boat quickly as the gaping hole on the bottom of her belly grew with each eroding moment. Planks moaned and I recall the sound of a mast cracking in half and falling on deck, crushing a few men. I was trapped a deck above the hole, and a deck below the air. There were sixteen others and all of them saw doom. 

               I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to see my death. Water began surging up through the wood that couldn't absorb anymore and the ship tilted to the left dramatically, causing a whole bunch of us to loose our balance and tumble with the tilt. The more who fell, the more the boat would tip. I was still clinging to the wall with my heels pushing against gravity on the floor when the ship fell on its side. My hat slipped off and I would have chuckled had I not been in mortal peril.

               A huge hole became apparent and a large chunk of the ceiling above us collapsed, crushing a few men and trapping the others in the water, making sure they drowned. The only other man still clinging to the wall let his grip fail and I winced as he was impaled upon an over-turned table leg, the table floating slightly on the water. He cried out the name of his bonnie lass and let his arm flail, knocking over a basket of granny smith apples. It struck me then, as I gazed at the fruit.

               "I'll propose," I shouted above the roar of the incoming water. I managed to find a way to climb out through the hole that the collapsing ceiling had made, and swam the short distance to the nearest island. Me and the other nine survivors were picked up by a passing pirate ship called _Frolic_ and returned to Tortuga. My hat had floated to shore not an hour after the sinking. I did laugh, then.

               Regardless how shaken up I was, I caught the next ship going to Port Vulpes and honestly _purchased_ a golden band with a diamond set into it. That night Liska and I agreed to be married, and she gave me her dead grandmother's wedding ring. It was a simple golden band and nothing more yet it was perfect to me.

~*----------------------*~

               "Oh, it's gorgeous," Liska exclaimed to me as she pushed the ring I had offered her up on her left ring finger. The diamond embedded into the golden band shone brightly in the candlelight and her hazel eyes gleamed with tears and happiness. She quickly threw her arms about me and rested her face in my neck. "Yes, of course I will!" she commented quietly, and I felt two drops of salt-water land on my skin.

               I had told her about _The Diver_ and my adventure there, ending the story with a "So, _miss_ Catharsis, y'eh goin' t'er marry me or not?" And now, after seeing her fearful expression throughout my tale, she had her arms around me and was accepting.

               "Good," I murmured playfully into her ear. She tore her face away from my chest and looked up at me, a grin planted on her lips. Her eyes trailed to the cut on my right cheek, just below my eye.

               "Was it the sinking?" she inquired gently, meaning the sinking of _The Diver_. I nodded my head and proceeded to explain.

               "When the ceiling crashed, I got a face full of splinters and a chunk of wood managed to cut me," I told her. It was the truth; the wood had cut me after collapsing. The cut stung to the touch yet had scabbed somewhat and stopped bleeding. It was red, it's edges dried and caked with blood and I figured it would leave a scar. 

               She peered at my cut for a moment before disappearing out of her bedroom and through a hall, down the stairs and out of my sight. She came back not five minutes later with a damp cloth that smelled strongly of whiskey. 

               "It needs to be cleaned properly," she said and instructed me to sit on her bed. I did so, and she attacked me right away with the cloth. The alcohol stung incredibly and with a wrath. I heard a soft hissing sound, or perhaps a sizzling, and bit my tongue to keep myself from making any noise. She took the cloth away and proceeding to dab at any other small nicks I had on my face, which was only two small ones caused when I escaped the sinking ship.

               She suddenly slipped a golden band over my left ring finger and kissed my unscathed cheek, abandoning the dirtied cloth on the floor and wrapping her arms around me; I followed her motion.

~*----------------------*~

                I'd prefer not to explain what happened that night, if you _don't_ mind. However, I will say it rather sealed the proposal. Most definitely.

               My next trip back to Tortuga proved a most interesting one. We ran into a navy ship and opened fire, sank them, and continued on our merry way. Once we arrived at the island, my luck held out-nobody noticed my ring. I hadn't taken it off, and those that did see it must have thought it was a simple decoration.

               And then _he_ showed up. 'Captain' Jack Sparrow waltzed right into the tavern I was sitting in, minding my own business as I stole an unguarded purse, and started sashaying right towards my table. He took a seat opposite of me (myself being the only one at the table) and leaned forward.

               "You gatta crew, mate?" he said, and I blinked mentally. Very outright he was. 

                "Not at the moment."

                "What says you that I give you position aboard me ship?"

                "To sail…?"

                "Isle de Muerta…" Sparrow said dryly, and my attention was caught. As I knew, Muerta meant 'death' in Spanish. I pondered why he would be going there, absently running a finger down my wedding band.

                "Pray tell, why?" I questioned.

               Jack continued to explain to me the gold medallions, the stone chest, the story behind the curse and Cortez…And I was interested. He was bold and reckless to sail through those waters. I had heard stories of ships that sunk in there, and even had seen ships go out and not return. He then told me about The Black Pearl, and how she was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. He wanted a crew. I knew the sea.

                "We have an accord," I said, and we shook wrists. Just then I noticed two pirates I hadn't seen for ages. I had even gone so far as to believe they were dead.

                "Eh, lookit this! It's Barbossa! Hey!" Pintel scrambled forward and plopped into a seat betwixt Jack and myself. 

                "So it is…" Ragetti who still hadn't gotten a glass eye (yet he had filled his empty socket with a replacement) strode over, nodded in greeting and merely stood behind the vacant chair.

                "You know these…fine, ah, gentlemen?" he gave me a look and I sneered.

                "I do. Two fine pirates they be."

               Introductions were made; the two were recruited along with me to Jack's crew and a deal was closed. I was the first mate. We later, after gathering some more crew folk (mind you not all our crew was from Tortuga), took a gander at _The Black Pearl_. She was a beauty, I knew, and couldn't help but ponder what Liska would think if I sailed into port with a hold bursting with gold and treasure such a fine ship…

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                           Cmdr. Gabe E- Thanks for your review! I sincerely appreciate your thoughts. I did a bit of research on the POTC homepage and discovered a lot of back-story and past belonging to Barbossa, and tried to enter it a bit into the story, hoping it would all make sense.

Keep reading and reviewing! : D


	3. That Was Then

Returnable

A

Pirates of the Caribbean 

Tale

            Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that.

            Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.

            Other: Hey, Softbrush here! The proceeding chapter takes place during the last scene of the movie, in the cave in Muerta. Right when Barbossa's shot, really. I hope your enjoying the story so far, cause I'm damn well enjoying writing it.

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That Was Then

That was then. The days that I hadn't been cursed. The days that I had visited Liska. The days I felt warmth, or pain, or feeling at all. The days were gone, and mine seemed to be numbered.

The gun went off and I hadn't even seen it coming. I felt a soft burning sensation overcome my body and I stared at Jack Sparrow as it disappeared.

"Ye carried that pistol ten years and you waste y'er shot?" I mocked him, feeling a grin twitch at my lips.

"He didn't waste it!" The whelp Bootstrap Bill Turner's son William called out to me. I turned to look at him and my eyes widened in realization. The golden medallion landed with the others, making clinking sounds like glass breaking. The fiery feeling suddenly shook my entire mass and I felt pain: Horrible wrathful pain in my chest and arms and everywhere else.

A thought flickered across my mind. Liska. Oh no, not now, not when the curse was lifted. I could go back to her now! I could, I could…I couldn't die now…Not when she might still remember me. I had only visited her twice when I was cursed, and she had seen my true form. She had shrieked once but then went calm. She had believed in me and my power to get the curse lifted. I couldn't die now…

The fire died and dulled. An odd shiver wracked my frame and I felt the gun in my gloved left hand go limp. The sword in my other hand fell and clattered on the ground. I looked down and tore my shirt open, starring in curiosity as blood gushed forth in a never-ending stream, staining the cloth. My hand dove into the pocket where I had an apple ready to be eaten once the curse was lifted. I took it out and let it dangle at my side.

"I feel…" I said, originally meaning to just exclaim I could feel again. I felt the smooth, slightly chilled skin of the apple, the pain in my chest, the blood trickling down my skin. Then the pain was washed away and the nothingness returned. A cold shiver wracked my body but I couldn't bring myself to shiver or budge.

"Cold," and my breath left me for good. I felt myself falling and remembered the drunken night with Liska before my hat had fallen over my eyes and we kissed. The apple fell from my limp hand as I landed on the treasure littered hill behind me.

Yet nothing went black. I saw no light, nor darkness, yet the clear coloured picture I always saw. There was a black line around my vision, but I still saw. I knew I wasn't breathing, and I couldn't feel the cold or pain any more.

I wasn't dead? I should have been…my heart had been the target hit so surely I was dead! But I saw. I watched as Sparrow, Turner and Miss Swann conversed, Jack fiddling and collecting treasure and gold, Will and Elizabeth ogling at each other.

I tried to open my mouth and say I wasn't dead, to please kill me because I couldn't stand the confusion and hurt, yet to save me because I needed to see Liska and…and then they left.

Perhaps an hour went by and I continued to scream out, not moving or making any sound. My body wasn't working, and I wasn't breathing. The apple was floating in the water and I noticed Jack the monkey swimming through the water. He was ragged for breath yet leapt upon the stone chest. He screeched and I suddenly heard the familiar sounds of bones cracking and clothes being mutilated, rotting at a fast pace. He had picked up a gold coin, the stupid beast. 

He left the cave then and I was once again alone. Thoughts raced through my head. Was this Hell? It was indeed torture, not being able to do anything or feel anything…yet where was the fire? The brimstone? The smiting of those foul beasts that dared call themselves human? Was it possibly heaven? Or Fiddler's Green? I kept thinking, _I'm sorry Liska, I'm so sorry…_Over and over.

Time flew by me and all at once I began to feel lighter. I felt the pain in my chest and groaned quietly, actually making sound. I slowly stirred and sat up, the pain suddenly gone and replaced with a feeling of warmth and…life.

"Apologies, captain Barbossa. I hadn't meant to be so late…"

I looked up and nearly fell back again. My gaze was that of someone dressed entirely in a black and heavily folded cloak, their hood draping over their face so I couldn't see. The voice was not male nor female, yet had a chill to it that was warm. Both hands were folded behind their back.

"What…?" I asked. It was all I could think of to say. The cloaked man (I presumed) gave a breath of laughter before pointing behind me. His hand was…just bone. Nothing else. No muscle, skin or blood, but yellowy ivory bone, like aged silk. Had I not seen it every night for the past ten years I would have been startled.

Slowly I turned my head and I felt the feeling of shock course through me. I was looking at my still, dead body; the bullet hole caked with dried black and wet red blood. I felt an odd feeling in my throat, like I was about to throw up. How could it be I was looking at myself and not in a mirror?

"I am Officer G. Reaper, however most call me Grim. I'm also known as Death, Soul-Stealer and sometimes people confuse me with Satan. However, I merely collect the souls of the dead and herd them to their rightful place. Which is," he held an index bone up to silence me, as my mouth had opened to question him, "Why I am here."

So I was dead. Fantabulous. I really was dead…yet he said he was here to collect my soul? Was that what I had become? A drifting soul? I sat up properly and felt lighter then usual, lighter then the last time I had felt my weight when I moved. 

"There was a mix up," Grim said. He sighed and shook his head, once again clasping his bony hands behind his back. He raised his head and if the hood had not shadowed it I would have sworn he was starring right into my eyes.

"You see, Captain Barbossa, it appears there was a terrible mix up. Supposedly, you've been registered dead for the past ten years. However, you've also been registered as alive." Here he paused and I suppose he did it to keep my attention. Well, he hadn't needed to.

"Yet a few hours ago you were whipped off of the dead list and stayed on the alive list. However, another minute passed by and you appeared on the dead list, once again. However, it appears that we cannot welcome you into Heaven or Hell, or Fiddler's Green just yet. Your name appeared on another list, yet."

I felt my jaw slacken. They kept lists? After a moment of carefully running his words through my head, I nodded. I understood yet didn't at the same time. Why was there a mix up? Couldn't he see my dead body just behind me?

"It appears…you are a Returnable," Grim said, taking his hands from behind his back and folding them together inside his sleeves.

"I'm a…I'm a what, did you say exactly? Returnable?" I asked, maybe a little exasperatedly. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'returnable' but it must have been important for it to cause a mix up in…the afterlife. Thinking that even sounded odd to me then.

"Yes, Captain Barbossa, I called you a Returnable, as that is what you are. A Returnable," he quoted, and I started. Had he managed to guess what I was thinking?

"What is it? I mean, _it_, a returnable?" I questioned quietly, tilting my head slightly to the right and nearly jumping as I felt my earring touch my neck.

"Returnable, Returnable," he said in a correcting tone, as though sensing that I hadn't any intention to capitalize the word. "It means you aren't supposed to serve your time in the afterlife yet."

He shook his head and rolled his shoulders back with much noise of cracking bones. I didn't stir but figured I should have as he turned his head to me and tilted it at an odd angle.

"Not to worry though, Captain, as most people who become Returnables don't understand it at first either. Not to worry, now."

"So, what it is then? What is a 'Returnable? I come back to life or something? Or do I become a spirit, a ghost?"

Grim chuckled and lowered his hood. His head was a skull, and empty eye sockets forced me to wince ever so slightly. I had expected perhaps something a little more, yet my expectations were not met, in a most gruesome way. His mouth was slightly curved, made of ivory white teeth placed in a never-ending grin.

"Not at all. You are indeed dead and it was perfectly fine by authorities. However, you didn't, ah, _do_ something before you died…"

I found myself diving further into confusion. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. I was supposed to be dead, yet I had been on three lists, all saying different things. Then I was being told I was a 'Returnable', which at that point I didn't know what was. 

"And, pray tell, what exactly was that, eh, Grim?"

He ignored my question however, and merely waved his left hand. His knuckles cracked sickeningly as did his other bones as he moved. He seemed to take a few steps towards me and through the water, yet he more or less levitated, and his cloak did not even become damp.

"Do you have a favourite animal, Captain Barbossa?" he inquired politely, clasping his hands behind his back _once again_. I thought for a moment and shook my head. Sure I had had a few pets as a child, and a monkey named Jack through out a few years portion of my adult life. Yet I didn't really favour a beast over another.

"Excellent! Simply superb!" Grim exclaimed, drawing a scythe that seemed to grow out of his very sleeve as he tugged at it. The blade was viscously sharp and curved, and gleamed strangely in the moonlight that cast upon it. He whirled it once in his hands, one whirl per finger and pointed it at me.

"You've got a question that needs to be answered, mate," he said slyly, and I felt myself feel an incredible amount of pain yet comfort at the same time. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off my chest, yet another one, even heavier had been slammed down and shattered my ribs and collapsed my lungs…

I tried to yell out but my voice had gotten lost in my throat, and I only made a retching sound. The last thing that happened to me then and there was that Officer G. Reaper said "Goodbye, pleasant nights and what not!" before I found myself in the black oblivion of unconsciousness. 


	4. Paws, Claws and Ringed Tails

A

Pirates of the Caribbean 

Tale

            Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that. I'm only borrowing Barbossa, because he's cute and cuddly and I'll hug him and love him and shower him with love…*ahems* I mean I'm only borrowing him and the quote from Loony Toons…

            Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.

            Other: Hey, Softbrush here! The proceeding chapter takes place after the movie. The day or two after they all sail back to Port Royal and Jack's death sentence is 'carried out' yet he escapes. A bit of humour may arise and a few familiar faces appear. 

I was a little concerned about the ending of this chapter, simply ending it right there where it stopped. However, I decided I'd just add a wee bit more to next chapter. 

Oh, and on a side note, I got the POTC soundtrack on Wednesday and haven't stopped listening to it. It's really great; Klaus Badelt did an excellent job composing. I love song number seven best, myself. My instrumental strings class and the band class, we're getting together and for our school's Christmas concert, we're going to play it. ; )  get a great part with my lovely violin (mainly because I've taken lessons for ever…") as*ba ba da baaaa!* Concert Master! Waho! We're also playing songs number eight, and maybe two more songs (for those of us that are in Grade Nine Strings yet the teacher decided we're good enough for Grade Ten strings). Our teacher _knows_ Klaus Badelt (and she's a POTC fan like us ;] )! So, that's why we're doing a few of the songs.

Kick-ass, yo! *does a little dance*

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Paws, Claws and Ringed Tails

I awoke the next morning with my head in considerable pain, and I quickly felt the urge to throw up. I struggled to my feet and only managed to crawl a few feet before dropping the short distance onto my chest and stomach, and proceeding to throw up in the cold water. I felt the dampness set into my face as I let it fall into the liquid, not caring I might suffocate-I was dead, why should I have had to worry. And then I realized…I felt. I still felt. And something else tugged at my tail.

_I had a tail_! That immediately set alarm into my system and I let out a startled squeak into the water. I turned my neck and sharply whirled my head around to get a glimpse at myself, the fluid dripping off of my scruffy chin. My sides were a dark shade of grey and my back was a lighter shade. Where the single braid in my hair had always dangled down to my shoulder blades, the fur was incredibly smooth and didn't look so 'wildlife'-like, regardless that it was slightly longer and resembled a rodent-sized horse's mane. My slightly bushy tail had six black rings in it (ironically the number of rings I always wore on my hands) and an actual golden band around it's mid-section. My digigrade hind legs were grey, yet from the ankle down they were a penetrating midnight. 

I squealed in a terrified tone and quickly found a spot of water that I hadn't polluted with my sickness. My face…Grey fur covered it, furry and slightly pointy cheeks greeted me. My eyes…they were still blue yet slightly more oval shaped, and surrounded by a fury mask of abyss-like black. My hands, now paws and lacking an opposable thumb, were black from the wrist down and I couldn't help but notice thin white lines stretching around my left fingers and wrist where my glove had been and the fingers had been cut off. A slightly reddish-brown line cut where my engagement ring should have been. Rounded black ears, my right one still pierced and my painted shark-tooth earring dangling in it (surprisingly, it seemed to be atomically correct due to my shrunken size), were pinned back against my head and I couldn't help but notice a few small nicks and slits in them. They reminded me of my hat! A small scruffy bit of fur sat on my forehead a bit above my eyes, slightly untidy as though they hadn't been brushed in a while.

I looked around myself in disbelief. How could this have happened? I reflected what Grim had asked me about having a favourite animal. Then I recalled I was a Returnable and had a question that needed an answer before my 'soul could move on'.

I reared up on my hind legs and over-balanced, thus falling backwards. Something around my neck became tight and I heard a quiet rustling sound. I looked down my pointed black, damp nose at a pine green bandana tied around my neck, the knot resting over my collarbone. Or my chest, I couldn't figure it out due to such a drastic change.

In shock I stared at it, then held my neck to the side to stare stupidly at some colour contrast. Gold letters, the thread stitched neatly into the cloth in Gothic calligraphy, spelled out 'Barbossa'. I rolled over onto my stomach, leapt up on my hind feet, only to fall again in my surprise.

I was a raccoon. Inconvenient, embarrassing, and a quadruped. I shakily rose on my four feet, attempting to not fall again. I succeeded, and took my first steps as an animal: moving a few feet away from the water. My tail clunked into something behind me and I whirled around, once again sighting my dead human figure. 

I raced towards the stone chest of golden medallions, glaring wickedly at myself as I backed my own back against the chest. Then I remembered it was I. I was there, and here at the same time. I figured it out rather quickly. I was to live on, yet my human body was dead and could not walk around or anything.

"Oh no," I murmured; yet it came out as an odd grumbling sound. I couldn't talk anymore. I was a beast, literally. An animal I had become, and ironically into a raccoon, baring the infamous thief mask and sly, tricky attitude. I wondered if I had rabies-I was tempted to bite somebody. Unfortunately, nobody but me was around.

I wanted out of the cave, yet was sacred to move. However, starring at my dead former self was not a comfort. I left the cave, feeling things with my paws as I went. My tail brushed plants and rocks, and water, and I constantly shivered regardless of my newly acquired fur. 

An hour passed of me exploring the rocky beaches and rocks of Isle de Muerta, and only when I returned once again to the cave did I see Jack. Jack the monkey, that is. He was sitting back upon the stone chest, glaring at the threshold to the cavern and the passage of water that ran from it.

I walked over to him, now very much having the hang of walking like a racoon. I had discovered easier ways to walk, such as on my toes and completely opposite legs moving together. He screeched and leapt down off the chest, the piece of Aztec gold no longer it his self-inflicted wounded hand, yet lying back in the chest with monkey blood all over it.

He ran past me and somewhere else, yet I took that opportunity to use my new nerves. My rounded yet slightly pointed black ears perked up and I couldn't help but snicker. I had known pirates who could twitch their ears at will, and had a conjured image of what they would think if they became animals.

I stood upon my hand legs and continued twitching my ears back and forth, trying to hear what had startled Jack. Then, after only moments, I heard the distant sound of water lapping against the side of a boat.

Sniffing the air, I absently caught the rancid and magnified smell of sweat, salt water and men, all mingled together. It was indeed horrible. I wrinkled my nose and tried to breath through my mouth, yet discovered it wasn't as easy as it had been when I was a human. The air tasted stale and was close together. It was very dense.

Ten minutes passed and a few small rowboats with five men dressed in British Navy uniforms sitting in each one emerged from the cavern's entry passage. Their boats scraped against the rocks and their voices were those of awe as they looked around at all the loot my crew and myself had taken over ten years. A few even were so bold as to stuff the treasure into their own pockets.

"Well well, looks like these pirates did damn well," a man commented to his friend, who chuckled appreciatively. They began taking burlap sacks from their boat and loading them up and piling them into their boat.

"Recovering the treasure, Norrington told us to do. Hah, he's probably going to keep some of it," another sailor commented dirtily, and I sprang to attention. They were recovering treasure. They were taking it away from the island…

I was going with them! I made up my mind right then and there that I would hop into one of their rowboats and take a ride back to wherever they were going.

"Now, he said not to take anything from the stone chest," the same sailor pointed up to the stone chest and Aztec gold medallions. I tensed, and felt the muscled in my shoulder shudder I stilled so hard. I watched and became surprised as no man neared the chest. 

A good two hours later the boats were loaded and the men scrambled inside, chatting about how they would have to take a few more trips back and forth, ignoring how low the boats had sunk in the water. I seized my opportunity and surprised even myself at the speed I showed while running.

A sailor pointed at me and I stopped in my tracks, starring up at them with blinking eyes.

"It's a racoon," one commented and a few whispers went up among the sailors. "They aren't supposed to be here, are they?" "Maybe it's a stolen pet…"

Moments flew by and finally a few of the navy men tried to coax me forward as though I was a real racoon. They lowered their voices to soothing tones and snapped their fingers, some clapped their knees with their hands, and others held out their hands as though they had food.

I snorted and reared upon my hind legs, trying to find the rowboat with the most treasure. _There! _I scurried forwards to it and just as I was about to reach it, I was scooped up into a firm hold of an officer.

"I've got it men. We'll look around for more of this animal's kind next trip."

The blighter didn't let me go the entire boat ride regardless of my struggles. I kicked and clawed, snapped and hissed; yet he still held me under an arm, tightening his hold painfully sometimes.

The boats were hoisted aboard a navy ship, and I caught the name of the boat, _HMS Guarder_ I read and couldn't help but sneer at the name. When the boats were hoisted up and secured, and the treasure unloaded, the officer showed me off to a few other men, explaining how I 'came right to him as though I knew he'd protect me from the gripping hands of the more greedy sailors'. I hissed yet was chuckled at. The man, whose name I came to know as Lieutenant Gillette, intended to keep me as a pet. I discovered myself hissing a lot more that night.

I was locked in the officer's quarters for the remainder of the journey. However, I did get my revenge. I took a liking to 'marking my territory' on all their beds. I was constantly punished and missed all my meals, however. Frankly, it was worth it.

Two nights later the _Guarder_ docked and I was (at last) allowed out of the bloody cabin. I roamed free over the ship, scurrying around and discovering new uses for my claws. One such use as climbing up the rigging and ropes, and attaching myself to the lower parts of a few sails. I was actually quite the nuisance. 

After a few minutes of being yelled at to come down, a sailor muttered something that my ears caught. "We make one stop in Port Vulpes to get a few supplies and the bloody 'coon uses it as a vacation…"

Port Vulpes. I felt my fingers go numb and my claws realise from the fabric of the sails. I plummeted down a few feet and landed in the ready arms of a sailor. After being set down, I sat myself up and claimed a friendly corner on the deck.

We were going to Port Vulpes…I thought about my time here. Liska, and the escapade we put ourselves through. I wondered if she still lived there, or if she was even still alive. I wanted to see her. However, there was a slight drawback.

I was a raccoon.

Three nights later we arrived at the dreaded port. I slept on the ship when we arrived (as gathering supplies always seemed to take so bloody long with the British navy we were staying for the night) with my tail curled around me, admiring the gentle rocking of the ship. It was awkward, my curled tail, yet I was warmer then I knew I would have been if stretched out. The ring around my tail was still there, though my fur had brushed over it and nearly covered it up completely. 

The moonlight glinted off it and I found myself expecting to see skeletal features, rotting clothes and decaying skin. Yet the curse never came back to strike me again. I was grateful, if not a little disturbed. Ten years of being cursed in that way had rather braced me for anything, yet not this. 

I flicked my tail, trying to see if it was indeed real. I combed my ears with my paws, and then nuzzled my fur with my nose. It wasn't a dream. I was a raccoon. I was dead. I was a Returnable.

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*snickers and plays song number Ten from the POTC soundtrack and lets it play throughout the chapter* MUWAhahahahahahahaha-coughchokespluttergag-hahaha!

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Cmdr. Gabe E: Yes, I know the adjustment for his goin' all sentimental and crap, but look at his vocabulary! *sobs* ; ) Anyways, he was drunk, remember? ; ) Okay, okay, though he was drunk, the heartless scruffy bastard (you get cookies for being so creative with your insults!) simply took note of the antics the couple were playing at and went with it. I can't really describe love without making it sound like a horrible cliché. 

Oh! To soon you think, eh? Well, in the movie Gibbs said "_Three days_ out on the venture", and before that, "_Not much_ is known about Jack Sparrow before_ he turned up_ in Tortuga…" So I simply went with that. I didn't see the friendship in the movie. And I am forced to quote Barbossa here, that "That's the kind of attitude that lost you the Pearl…" so wouldn't Barbossa have said something to Jack about disagreeing with him and everything if they were friends for such a long while? 

Barbossa's back-story (which you can find on the Official POTC website) said he was a man of the sea before he went pirate, and thus because of his age, he had experience in the ocean and on a ship, aye? Aye. Plus, if they were friends for such a super-long time, Jack would have known about Barbossa's skills and found even more reason to appoint him to First Mate. 

Okay, hope that made sense to you and justified my actions. Thanks for still reading! I appreciate your comments.


End file.
